


That’s Not A No

by asarcasticwitch



Series: Teen Wolf Bingo [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Beta Derek Hale, Blow Jobs, Come Eating, Come Swallowing, Coming In Pants, Deepthroating, Established Relationship, Explicit Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Face-Fucking, Food Sex, Loss of Control, M/M, Not Beta Read, Oral Sex, POV Third Person, Rough Oral Sex, Sensation Play, Stiles Stilinski Has an Oral Fixation, Stiles Stilinski is Eighteen Years Old, Wolfed Out Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:40:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25322521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asarcasticwitch/pseuds/asarcasticwitch
Summary: “I want to suck you off,” Stiles states, none too delicately, tapping his foot impatiently against the ground while chewing his bottom lip between his teeth, waiting for a reaction.Derek stills, eyes lifting from the page he’s currently reading in favor of bestowing his full attention upon his mate. “I’m listening.”
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Teen Wolf Bingo [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1837195
Comments: 26
Kudos: 377
Collections: Teen Wolf Bingo





	That’s Not A No

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the ‘Pop Rocks and Blowjobs’ square on my Teen Wolf Bingo card.
> 
> It's very short and basically just porn with no plot in sight, but it’s a bit of harmless fun. I’m not yet overly confident in my abilities to write smut, but I’m trying my best to improve with practice.
> 
> As always my fics are no doubt full of mistakes and errors, Grammarly isn’t a magician—nor am I. I hope you can overlook them for now until I do a proper editing session or acquire a Beta. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

“Can we try something?” Stiles blurts out after spending the last several minutes quietly contemplating the pros and cons of his request.

Derek can probably sense his inner turmoil, his heightened hearing no doubt clueing him in to the fact that Stiles’ mind is working a mile a minute to debate whether or not this is entirely a good idea.

The pungent smell of hyperactive teenager with too much time on his hands to obsess over sexy stuff must be absolutely rife.

“Hm?” The wolf hums, not bothering to glance up from the newspaper he has nestled atop his thighs.

“I want to suck you off,” Stiles states, none too delicately, tapping his foot impatiently against the ground while chewing his bottom lip between his teeth, waiting for a reaction.

Derek stills, eyes lifting from the page he’s currently reading in favor of bestowing his full attention upon his mate. “I’m listening.” 

Stiles snorts but doesn’t comment on Derek’s sudden spark of interest in the conversation; he just soldiers on with his original line of thought. “I want to suck you off, _but_... I also want to try something new.” 

Derek looks cynical— _rude_ —but humors him. “Am I going to like this _something new_ or is this just another one of your irrationally bad ideas?”

“Oh, har, har,” Stiles huffs at Derek’s attempt at sark. “My ideas are legendary; it’s not my fault you don’t appreciate genius.”

Derek exhales a long breath, not even dignifying that last line with a response. “What is it, Stiles?” 

Stiles doesn’t answer with words, just produces a small, black, and red packet from behind his back, dangling it in the air in front of him with a questioning smile. 

Derek stares at the rustling rectangle as if it’s about to sprout wings. “Pop rocks?” he comments dryly, folding his newspaper with instinctual grace and placing it aside without taking his calculating gaze off Stiles. “You want to suck my cock with your mouth full of pop rocks?”

Stiles clicks his tongue, rocking his thumb and forefinger towards the man in the imitation of a gun. “Got it in one.”

“Gods above.” Derek’s eyes flutter closed, head tilted to the sky as if to pray for strength.

He does that a lot; it’s offensive. 

Yeah, okay, it may be slightly strange but come on, it’s not the first time they’ve dabbled in a little sensation play in the bedroom. It was only last week they attempted to introduce ice cubes into their sex life. Which, granted, was a colossal mistake, really not something they will _ever_ be trying again, but the point is that they gave it a go, and that’s all he ever asks.

Stiles rocks forward on the balls of his feet, baring his teeth in a manically hopeful grin. “That’s not a no...”

“Fine,” Derek sighs, opening his lids to glare at him, his finger pointing towards him accusingly. “But I swear to the Gods, Stiles, if my dick fizzes every time I take a piss, I won’t be best pleased.”

Stiles scoffs, shrugging off the wolf’s hollow warning. “Oh, shhh, they’ll dissolve.” He flaps his hand between them at Derek’s skeptical look. “Between my mouth and your body being a supernatural furnace, they won’t last long enough to get stuck anywhere important.” 

“You said that about the ice cubes,” Derek deadpans, which is a fair point, but he’s since learned from his mistakes. 

Stiles doesn’t have a witty remark or sarcastic comment to add, so he just flails in a _what do you want me to say?_ motion.

Derek exhales sharply, something Stiles has recently deciphered as a laugh.

The man takes a moment, his face impassive as always, his eyebrows doing that pained dance they partake in whenever he’s deciding whether or not to give in—that’s how Stiles knows he’s won him over. 

He rarely says no to Stiles’ antics, equal parts due to his wolf striving to please his mate and the fact that he’s secretly just as curious as Stiles when it comes to kinky stuff. Albeit he’s not as enthusiastic as Stiles or as willing to jump headfirst into new territory without a second thought for the consequences.

Still, the potential for spontaneity is there; he just needs a gentle nudge. 

The wolf finally nods his approval, settling himself further back on the couch in preparation. “Fuck it, let’s try it.”

Stiles squeals in victory, shimmying his shoulders in a ridiculous celebratory dance. Derek rolls his eyes, shaking his head in exasperation at the theatrics, but there’s a preening swell to his chest.

Stiles wastes no time in crossing the room, excitement coursing through him at the opportunity to try something he’s never done before.

He stumbles in his haste—because of course he does—nearly ending up in a heap in Derek’s lap.

“Eager, are we?” Derek chuckles, steadying him as he kneels between the wolf’s spread thighs. 

He’s positively giddy; not only does he get to wrap his lips around his boyfriend’s incredible cock, but he’s also getting to do it with the addicting crackle of popping candy against his tongue.

Call him weird all you want, but he’s ecstatic. 

“Are you complaining?” Stiles retorts once he’s comfortable, nimble fingers reaching out to unzip Derek’s jeans. 

He stutters in his movements as he notices the wolf is going commando. For all the times they’ve been intimate together, Stiles should be used to taking away that barrier of clothing to find his boyfriend as bare as the day he was born underneath, but no, he’s not used to it; he’ll never be used to it. It will never fail to send a spark straight to his core at knowing the wolf is ready for him whenever he wants it.

It’s like unwrapping a gift. 

“Not complaining, just-” Derek’s words cut off on a groan as Stiles licks a sloppy wet stripe up the underside of his dick, twitching to full hardness at the sudden stimulation. 

Stiles doesn’t take his time; he doesn’t go slowly; he goes for gold from the word go. 

He takes the head into his mouth and suckles, tongue swirling across the leaking slit, moaning like a seasoned harlot as the familiar salty tang burst across his taste buds. Derek’s fingers dig into the couch cushions, head dropping back as he lets Stiles play. 

Stiles loves this. He’s always had somewhat of an oral fixation, always having something in his mouth to help him concentrate—a distraction for all his nervous tics. But having Derek’s cock prizing his jaw open, the silky weight of him against his tongue is on another level entirely; it’s absolute bliss. 

If it were up to him, he’d be on his knees for the wolf at least three times a day— _every day_. 

“Stiles,” Derek growls as he takes the wolf into his throat, his non-existent gag reflex proving once again to be a gift as he swallows him as deep as he’ll go without much effort.

Stiles wants to bring him right to the brink before he introduces the candy. He knows the tingling sensation doesn’t last for long, so he has to make it count.

He tightens his lips around the shaft, bobbing his head without much rhyme or rhythm, up and down every single glorious silken inch. Whenever he reaches the tip, he flicks out his tongue before crashing back down close to the base. Drool is beginning to gather at the corner of his lips, dripping slowly down his chin.

He runs his hands up the wolf’s thick thighs, only slightly miffed that the clothing restricts the feeling of muscles tensing under his palms. His fingers move towards the man’s balls, massaging them gently as he hollows his cheeks in an attempt to suck the wolf’s very soul out through his cock.

Derek is quivering beneath him, his self-control wavering with every bob of Stiles’ head.

Stiles wants him to let go, wants to see him lose control. It gets him hard enough to hammer nails whenever the beast comes to the fore, so he tightens his grip, eliciting a guttural whine and another salty bead dripping onto his tongue.

“Stiles, I’m close,” Derek warns, his whole body going taut as he tries to hold back. It drives the man wild to rut into the constricting heat, but he’s letting Stiles set the pace.

_That just won’t do._

With a lewd pop, Stiles lets Derek fall from his mouth. He tears open the packet with his teeth, surprisingly only managing to spill a few tiny nuggets—the golden crumbs now scattering across the floor an issue for later.

He tips the contents into his mouth, the tingling starting as soon as they hit his tongue. 

He has seconds to try this, so he wastes no more time in opening his mouth as wide as it’ll go, careful not to lose any more of the sweets, and swallows Derek right to the root.

“Christ Stiles,” Derek shouts, his hand lunging to Stiles’ head, fingers curling into his hair, not yet pulling just a subtle presence. “Fuck, that feels... weird,” he groans. “Keep going.”

Stiles chuckles, the noise muffled with his mouth full, but it must vibrate straight through Derek as the wolf moans obscenely. 

He has to admit; it does feel weird. Not a bad weird, just _odd_.

The grainy texture is rough between his tongue and Derek’s smooth skin, the frantic crackles snap against the inside of his cheeks and tickle his throat, the sickly-sweet artificial strawberry mixes deliciously with the sharp musk. All of it combined is a little bit overwhelming—in the best kind of way—but he just needs that little bit more. 

He gathers as much of the candy as he can onto the tip of his tongue, head retreating slightly so he can put pressure against the head of the wolf’s cock, focusing the fizzing sensation on where Derek is most sensitive—hoping it will give him what he wants.

It does _._

Derek, honest to God, _howls_ as the rocks explode against him. It’s like music to Stiles’ ears; he almost chokes at the animalistic sound now echoing loudly through the apartment. 

Looking up through his lashes—his vision fuzzy with tears—he’s greeted with the sight of Derek in his beta shift; eyes glowing supernatural blue, fangs extended to sharp points, and face entirely made up of protruding edges. That right there is what gets Stiles throbbing painfully in his jeans, body begging for its own release as Derek finally breaks his composure, clawed fingers fisting roughly in his sweat-slicked hair, hips rutting up in abandon as he chases his pleasure. 

Stiles moans wantonly as Derek fucks his throat, unable to do anything but submit to the wolf’s punishing pace. He presses his palm against the bulge in his pants, giving himself a modicum of friction to relieve the ache. He desperately wants to come; the sound of Derek snarling above him, the knowledge that he’s caused him to turn almost feral, along with the carnal slapping of skin against skin, is pushing him so close to the edge.

But he won’t, not until he sees Derek fall over that precipice.

“Gods, Stiles, that feels so fucking good,” Derek slurs through his fangs, breath coming out in short pants as his movements become jerky and uncoordinated, every muscle in his body going rigid as he hurtles towards the end. “I’m gonna come, baby.”

It only takes a few more violent thrusts, and Derek convulses below him, Stiles’ name a benediction on his lips as he crests over that peak, spiraling into the deepest pits of euphoria. 

Derek spilling across his tongue is what has Stiles coming hard into the confines of his jeans, his orgasm tearing through him with a crippling intensity, eyes rolling into the back of his head as his vision goes white. He barely touched himself, just the subtle pressure from his hand and the intoxicating taste bursting over his tongue enough to get him there.

He swallows everything, milking Derek for all he has until the wolf whimpers with overstimulation. The fierce popping has tapered off, but as the remaining golden morsels mix with the wolf’s thick release, it gives off a subtle tingle while sliding down Stiles’ throat.

He relishes in the sensation, making sure to lick up every last sticky drop of melted sugar as he pulls off, savoring the last few sparks as they fade away.

His head lolls to the side to rest on the wolf’s thigh, inhaling deep lungful’s of warm sex-infused air. His chest expands erratically, only calming when Derek’s hand leaves his head to curl around the back of his neck, thumb tapping against his pulse point in time with his rapid heartbeat—grounding him.

Neither of them speaks for a while, both just basking in the afterglow in tranquil silence.

Well, Derek does.

“So,” Stiles pipes up after a few moments, the rawness in his throat making his voice waver. He doesn’t move from his relaxed position, just twists his head to look up at the wolf. “Was that another one of my stupendously brilliant ideas?” 

He already knows the answer, especially with the reaction he coaxed out of the man; he just wants him to admit it—he’s a little shit like that.

Derek meets his gaze, features now fully back to human, his expression blissed out. He shrugs lazily as he speaks. “It was different.”

Stiles’ face splits into a smug grin, seeing straight through Derek’s vague answer, his woeful attempt at acting airy and unaffected not fooling anyone. “That’s not a no,” he chirps playfully, shooting the wolf an exaggerated wink that no doubt looks ridiculous before settling further into the comfortable warmth of his mate’s body.

Derek rolls his eyes at him, but the gesture loses all its heat with the adoring smile it accompanies. “It’s not a no.”

Stiles doesn’t need the exact words; the look on Derek’s face and his inability to give a straight answer are enough of an affirmation to the astounding success of his suggestion.

He’ll give the wolf a chance to recover before sharing what he plans next.

_Hot wax._

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am not recommending you try this at home, pop-rocks can cause infection when used on genitals, so as always do your research before trying shit like this—unlike these two looneys, but at least they have werewolf healing on their side.
> 
> As with all my smutty fics, this is heavily exaggerated. I've never personally tried this, so I used my imagination but apparently, according to people who have tried it, it's doesn't give off as much of a sensation as you'd think. That's the only reason my stupid ass hasn't tried it, to be honest.
> 
> Please let me know if I've missed any tags or warnings as the last thing I want to do is offend anyone.
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr at [asarcasticwitch](http://asarcasticwitch.tumblr.com).
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
